“She has not come to see me for more than three years now,” she continued. “They even moved out of their former house, and she did not tell me.”
Okon’s brows tightened.
“It was when I went there myself to check on them that I found out they had already left,” she added softly.
Okon breathed out slowly.
“Hmm,” he murmured.
Then he spoke again.
“The reason I asked is because two years ago, I was sending her money to build a modern house,” he said, “on a piece of land I also sent her money to buy for me.”
Mrs. Madara turned to look at him, confused.
Okon brought out his phone. He opened his gallery and began scrolling.
“These are the pictures she was sending to me,” he said.
He showed her image after image, from the foundation to the rising walls to the roofing, until the building looked complete.
Mrs. Madara stared at the screen, her eyes wide.
“This…” she whispered.
Okon swallowed.
“I was on my way to that house yesterday when I saw you,” he said. “I believed you were already living there.”
Silence filled the car.
Then suddenly, Mrs. Madara broke down in tears.
“What happened to my daughter?” she cried. “How did the child I carried for nine months become so heartless toward her own mother?”
Her voice shook deeply.
“All these years, I believed you were the one suffering,” she continued. “I’ve been crying to God to bless my children.”
Tears rolled freely down her face.
“I did not know God had already answered my prayers,” she said.
Okon moved closer and held her gently.
“Mama, it’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s all over now.”
He held her hand firmly.
“I’m here now,” he added. “We are going to that place. I want to see what she did with the house I sent her money to build for you.”
The car moved forward again.
They drove for a long time, almost two hours.
Finally, they arrived at the location.
Okon stepped out of the car.
“Mama, please stay inside,” he said gently.
She nodded.
